


The Abandoned Case of The Three Graves

by MaerqwathShadowsoul



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Horror, Multi, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Psychological Trauma, Religious Cults, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 09:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaerqwathShadowsoul/pseuds/MaerqwathShadowsoul
Summary: The Abandoned Case of The Three Graves is a mystery / crime / horror story consisting of thirteen fateful chapters planned in total for the first book.Lady Eleanor Goldwine's mysterious blackouts of pain seem to lead her to the past, while damaging a part of her neural system in the brain. She suffers from the Bickerstaff syndrome. The doctors have estimated her to live to be fifty to sixty years old at this rate, if the symptoms continue to increase along with aging. She is thirty–seven years old, and has decided to dedicate her life to studying and solving of cold cases, a.k.a crimes, which ended up being abandoned and forgotten for reasons unknown, while maintaining her family's businesses of wineries, breweries and cider making. In 1905, she learns of and unearths a plot involving a dangerous game of power reaching all across England. Embrace the mystery and horror of The Three Graves."And then the so–called She–Demon spoke, hissing, reciting the words in Latin. And they would chant them in the church repeatedly, until the daylight had waned. Malum veneficium in omne tempus."Evil black magic forever.





	1. A Fateful Letter From the Past

15th of May, 1905, the House of Goldwine

 

It was an enchantingly beautiful Sunday morning. The sun's light awoke her from a pleasant dream, and as she awoke, one of her seven maids, Anna, walked in through the door of her room. And when she noticed the not–so–fresh expression on the lady's face, she only smiled and spoke in a soft tone: "Good morning, milady. Can I get you anything at this time, a cup of coffee and some breakfast, perhaps?" The noble lady looked at her maid with confusion first, but then cleared her thoughts and said: "Thank you, Anna, that will do. I shall come to the main hall in forty–five minutes. I think I will go out for a short walk before that."

"As you wish, milady." And with saying that, she walked out of the room to prepare her lady's breakfast.

Then she found herself shouting behind her as she went humming: "I do have a name, you know? It's Eleanor, Anna dear! You are always so formal it at times truly bothers me."

"Yes, I know! You once saw to our inclusive education, and taught us how to–" She replied in a hasty tone, while nearly tripping in the red–carpeted stairs of the main hall on her way down.

"–be proper and elegant maid–s...", when the loud sound of a human head hitting a wooden door was suddenly heard.

Shaking her head, before leaving for a walk, Eleanor mumbles to herself: "Sometimes I truly wonder was it the right decision to hire seven maids. Seven maids, seven faults. It seems almost like a fable. Oh well, off I go."

 

At this point, you all may wonder who is this lady we are speaking about, and it shall hereby be revealed. Her name is Eleanor Goldwine, and just like her father, she was raised and taught into academic ways of business economics. She attended many higher schools and passed them all with very notable scores and earned degrees. When her father, Nicholas Goldwine died of an old age, she took the reins of their family business and sales, and raised the Goldwine family's fortune to unseen heights. Now she resides in an old manor, designed by one of the most respected and renowned architects ever to live, Sir Anders Thrommel.

She lives there with her husband, Marcus and their two cats, Sunrose and Stardust, and of course, then there are the seven maids of the house: Anna, Gabriella, Alexandra, Wendy, Joanna, Hannah and Bethina. So many a's in their names, yet Wendy has always stood out the bunch for some reason. 

Now, we all know her name and the names of those who live in the same house with her, so, let us proceed.

 

Before she left her room, she carefully combed her hair and dressed up, and then she walked across those long and familiar hallways. She always stared at the paintings and statues they had collected together with her husband, Marcus, and always when she walked past the kitchen, she could see Anna making breakfast to her, wearing a flower-patterned apron with both of her hands tied in work. It always made her to smile a bit, and at times she thought that she should double Anna's wage, despite her.. recurring collisions with the kitchen door. She was so kind and warm to her and all of the others who lived in the manor.

And just like every other morning, she walked to the end of the hallway, and opened a door that led her to the garden of blue and red roses. And before she even had a chance to fully open the doors, the mother earth decided to change the course of her morning once more, and in a swift moment, a strong gust of wind blew those doors wide open, and the sun returned from beyond the grey clouds, and it smiled at her from high above. So timeless. What a great way to start a day, she thought. And so she began to tend to the garden, since she wanted to do it by herself, due to various reasons. One being the fact that most of the flowers that grow in her garden are quite rare, and she couldn't even bear a thought of letting someone incapable to take care of her beautiful flowers. Least of all, her beloved husband, who had never understood anything about flowers or nature.

And as she moved to far side of her house, she began to dig, so she could get rid off all those nasty weeds, and only then, she made a horrifying discovery. Her shovel suddenly hit to something solid, and as she kept digging, she found skeleton of a pigeon, and strange enough, it carried a sealed letter with it. Eleanor quickly dispatched it from the corpse and slipped it to one of the pockets of her outdoor coat.

Shortly afterwards, she headed back inside to notice that her breakfast was already in table. And Anna walked towards her, saying: "Lady Eleanor, may I have your coat and tools, so you can sit down and eat?"

Eleanor looked at her sharply, and replied: "Fine, Anna, there you go. I shall eat now, then I will leave for the study chambers, and I do not wish to be disturbed for hours."

"As you wish, milady." And with that said, she disappeared into one of the rooms to clean it.

Eleanor first thought to eat her breakfast in front of the oaken kitchen table, but the letter in her pocket caused her too much interest and distress at the time, so she decided to take the food with her, and eat it while studying and reading.

Once she was there, she locked the door, lit many, many candles and carefully opened the letter, and to her horror, there was dry blood on the yellowed paper. And as she began to read the text, unknowingly, she began something that would haunt her for the rest of her remaining life. The letter contained a rusty key, short notes and following a piece of old paper:

 

15th of May, 1875, the Veridante Manor

 

"My name is Edward Augusson Veridante, and that is all I can tell about myself. I cannot reveal where I live and what is my part in this all, but I can tell you one thing. I was the one who found her body, and without knowing, I started something that would not never come to an end. How many more must die. I do not know, but as I write this letter, I have only one single thought upon my mind...

Who just opened the door leading to my cellar?

I do not have much time, someone is trying to break through the doors of my chamber. I must send this letter as quickly as possible. Fairly is my last pigeon alive. It will deliver this letter.. It should contain some forgotten details about a cold case called: 'The Three Graves'.

Sadly I cannot tell you more, but know that I did not send this letter to you by chance. We know each other, but I believe that you do not recall the events of your shadowed past. Memories constrained, forgive me. 

I must end this now, it all ends.. now.. I wish you good luck and..."

 

*Stains of blood marks the seal of the letter, signature is partially missing from the end.*

 

After she was finished reading the letter, she carelessly spoke his name aloud: "Edward Augusson Veridante."

And at that very moment, the flames of all of the candles across the room flared, and she dropped the letter to the floor. For a moment, it looked like it was covered in fresh blood, and by shaking her head, she lifted the letter from the marble floor and placed it in one of the lockers of her wooden writing desk.

She could not believe it. How a thirty year old letter could have stayed intact during all these years. It felt so strange and unnatural, and the contents of the letter, gave her chills down to the spine.

With the notes in the right, and a key in the left hand, she spoke to herself: "Who is Edward Augusson Veridante, and this letter. I wonder who was to originally received it? Surely it cannot be.. me. This makes no sense."

So many questions arose, but none of them could be answered. She knew that it would not be wise to venture any further yet, or go to the police or to see William. Instead of that, she sat on a comfortable; upholstered chair and opened some of the notes, only to notice that parts of the text was written in a language unfamiliar to her. The writer had included some kind of mysterious numbers in the overall text.

"Where are my glasses when I need them the most.." She thought, and without hesitating, she went back to her own room to get the glasses, some research books and a five–year old vintage bottle of red wine. Then she quietly returned to the study chambers and locked the door once more.

"It is going to be a long day" She said, and by opening the bottle of wine, the most dramatic investigation of her life began.

 

16th of May, 1905, the House of Goldwine

 

Eleanor finally awoke to the brightness of sunlight shining faintly through the windows of her study chambers. She felt so dizzy and tired. She had not been doing all–nighters for a long time, but fortunately enough, it was not done in vain. In one single night, she had collected a vast amount of information and uncovered a lot of strange names. And she was just about to unlock the doors and go to kitchen for a cup of fresh coffee, as a reward to her own efforts, but only a brief moment later, someone knocked on the door, and not to her surprise, it was her husband, Marcus, yelling at her: "Eleanor, Eleanor! If you are still there, please answer to me! Did you drink too much wine again and passed out on the writing desk?"

 

Sighing, she lifted her head up and shouted back at him:"Yes, Marcus, dear, I am in here. Now, would you be so kind as to lower your voice, please. I will open the door now."

And as she opened it, Marcus rushed in like a beast on it's prey's trail, stating: "I do not really understand. What could possibly be so interesting enough to keep you awake until so late in the morning? For a short time there, I thought something terrible had happened to you."

Eleanor knew Marcus all too well, he was more than overcaring, and she also knew that at times, he simply could not think things clearly in his head, but still, she was willing to give him a satisfying answer: "Marcus, Marcus. I found a dead pigeon buried in our garden yesterday, and decided to go through the notes I found in a letter tied to one of it's talons.."

Marcus looked somewhat relieved and said: "I am glad to hear that everything is alright. Wait, what pigeon and letter? Oh well, did you learn anything useful? The whole research must have yielded something, surely you would not otherwise have spent the whole night working on it?"

She noticed that he could not help himself but to smile, and it annoyed her a little, still, looking serious this time, she threw another good answer-like question straight at him: "Marcus, with all of the experience to back me up — including the academies attended — I doubt it I would end up with a blank set of documents during any given night of research, would you not agree?"

"Yes, you are right as always. But oh Eleanor, do tell me, did you find out anything useful?"

"Yes, and no. I am not sure about it. Not just yet. There are too many things that remain unclear to me at this time, but one thing is for certain."

"And what is that?" He asked.

She grew mysterious, then looked him deep into the eyes, and said: "I am most confident that this letter.. was supposed to be delivered to my late father, Nicholas."

"Well, that certainly sounds a bit off. Odd, when was the letter originally sent?"

Rolling in her comfy chair, she replied: "That is the real, or more like truly the most puzzling question here. This letter, according to it's date of writing, was sent exactly thirty years ago from this day."

"Hmm, perhaps William could be of assistance to you with this one? You know how good he is with mysteries. Now, I must be on my way to eat breakfast, or I will be late for work. See you later on, my love."

"You are right, I should visit his office once my afternoon meeting with the winery's executive council. Have a great day at the Westminster courthouse, dear."

 

And so, he departed from the study chambers, and Eleanor placed her hands on the table and thought: "This will not be an easy task. But, fortunately, there is indeed one person who can help me. That would be William. William Stanley, a private detective and writer. First, I must attend the meeting though. I am glad I managed to keep that mentioned murder investigation and cold case a secret from Marcus. He does not need to hear that right now. It would only make him worry even more."

After going back to her personal chambers, she dressed up, packed her belongings: the letter, all of the notes and related study books, and was ready to leave the house.

Just when she got to the living room, she noticed that all of the seven maids and Marcus were standing in the center of that room, waiting for her to arrive. They all wished to know where she was heading now. Eleanor was always on the move, there was no telling which day she would just disappear only to return the next, and say she was either meeting business associates, studying outdoors or attending glamorous dances. She would once more give them instructions, before leaving for her errands: "There is something very important you all should know. I have decided to go on a trip of a few weeks at most. I will be leaving via train after today's business meeting. And while I am gone, I want Anna to keep order in the house, and she will be watching over all of you others. Help Marcus with his daily activities as much as you can if he needs it, and.. that should be it. Be nice and keep the place clean. Ta ta!"

 

And like a perfectly arranged choir, they all shouted back at her at the same time: "Yes, madam!"

"And oh, Anna, come over here for a moment."

"Yes. milady."

"Here are the spare keys to the house and all of it's and chambers, but do not go to the study too much, is that understood? It is my private sanctuary. Should you go there, do so only under unique, or special circumstances."

"Of course, my lady. I will take care of things in your absence."

"Good, and if anyone comes by, and leaves me a note or a message, or calls our telephone, answer it, tell I am not home, and also make sure to place the items acquired in the usual place, beneath the cloth of my room's chest of drawers."

"Understood."

"Now, I must go. See you Marcus, and my trusted maids."

 

And with that, she walked out through the front door, and took the chariot's to the center of the city of Ravenwood. And after a ride of thirty–five minutes, she found herself standing in front of the town hall, wherein lie the mayor's office.

The mayor was not alone, though. He had in his company a few counselors, some merchants and other notable people of nobility as well. And she could only ask from herself: "What are they all doing here?" For she did not know, but before she could even open her mouth, the mayor looked at her and said: "Eleanor, hello, I am glad you could make it my friend. Welcome to the meeting. Your family's brewery and winery are the two most top–selling; important business assets in the whole town of Ravenwood. hops in the city. How are you doing these days, all good with Marcus and the cats?"

Smiling at the mayor, Eleanor replied: "Oh yes, good morning to you, Mayor Jeremy Thornbridge. Business sure is good, our sales have been increasing for years ever since we renovated the old winery, and rebuilt it anew with an additional two wings, and more storage space. We have also added a few new ale recipes to our collection of late. But what about the town hall, it's people – is it all going well over here?"

After taking a few bites of toast and eating a boiled egg, he turned back to face Eleanor and said: "Yes, we are holding up fine. And I am glad to hear that, Eleanor. But I am afraid that even we have nothing to say about the rising of taxes. It.. well, it will not be good news to the townsfolk. I am most certain of that. What can we do about it, though? Nothing."

Looking a bit sharp, she said: "Yes, Jeremy. It will also affect our family business, but fortunately only in little proportions. Still, these are sad tidings for the people of Ravenwood, and all of the nearby small towns as well."

"You are right as always, I really do hope this is just a passing lapse, and better times lie ahead. I will take my breakfast elsewhere, or what is left of it. We shall finish the paperwork, and there will be a signature requirement as well. My apologies for eating while talking, I am so busy on Mondays at times I barely get to eat anything at all. I expect to be working today until the late evening."

'The pleasure was all mine, Jeremy. I will be in your office in fifteen minutes, that enough?

"Yes, see you there, Eleanor."

And with Mayor's momentary departure, she went to get a cup of Twinings' Lady Grey tea from the hall's small corner cafe, then seated herself and started to read the day's newspaper. The extra visit to the office was quick, and then she was on her way by foot to meet William. His office is five point five kilometers away from the town hall. Eleanor enjoyed of taking long walks, to her, this would be a quick morning jog.

 

Nearing the office, she saw someone standing barely behind the corner of a wall in the distance, even though it was near noon, the figure looked very shady. How could anyone be dressed in so black and ragged a manner to be considered a bad man by looks alone. Unless, it was a disguise on purpose. She already had her suspicions when she carefully tried to pass the man by, he suddenly grabbed Eleanor from her left hand. But as she turned to face the stranger, to her 'surprise', it was William Stanley. And by looking into her eyes, he said: "Hello there, Eleanor. Eh, it's been a while. I have kind of been.. expecting you. Sorry for grabbing your hand, and this bizarre costume and the ominous–looking; black book I am holding in my right hand? I know. Weird, huh? I can.. explain.. this."

 

"I am sure you can, and good to see you have not changed a bit, William. It has been way too long, well met." Said Eleanor, by strongly shaking William's hand unexpectedly, he replied: "Your grip is as firm as ever, my friend. Now, let us hear it. What was so important Marcus went through the trouble to call me via a landline telephone prior to your arrival? I know you do not like it being used, since you are a bit, how would I put it, parsimonious."

 

"He did? And true enough. Oh well, one important call does not matter." Eleanor showed him the letter, the notes and with a heavy expression on her face, she continued, "I was hoping you would know more. Does the name.. Edward Augusson Veridante say anything to you?"

 

Upon hearing this, William looked around carefully, as if to survey the situation, he kept checking nearby areas, looking into bushes and for possible nooks and other hiding places. "Yes. It would be wiser to go inside my office, it is just around the corner. We shall talk there instead of here on the street. These days, you never know.. who is watching." Said William, before handing over the letter and notes back to Eleanor.

 

"You are starting to scare me a little. What are you talking abo–", but before she could finish, William signaled her to quieten, and then follow him. After they had gotten inside his office, he locked the door and even bolted it shut, then turned around to face Eleanor, saying: "I must apologize. I–I do not even know from where to start. That name you just mentioned, is a name I have not heard in a long time. I used to work on the case, when we had to abandon it due to the lack of evidence at the time. Where did you get these items?"

"A dead pigeon buried in my rose garden had a folded letter tied to one of it's talons."

"Extraordinary. How on Earth did you manage to find something like that in your garden?"

"Well, there I was casually tending to my beautiful flowers, when the shovel hit something that gave away a bony clank. Everything always starts from something small, as they say."


	2. Encrypted Omens of a Repressed Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor and William discuss the events in William's office, then Eleanor experiences blackouts / visions. And just when they are about to leave for Grimsby, after calling the authorities via a wall telephone, Eleanor swallows a pill, which she does not know to be a new kind of hard drug, causing her to enter a very visionary trip of nearly supernatural hallucinations. Then she is taken to the hospital, where her strange dream scenarions begin, once she falls asleep while lying on the hospital bed.

"Indeed. This I too have learned to be true. Well, what else did the notes mention? Now that we have time, and are out of the sight of any curious eyes, let us take a look at them. Marcus mentioned something about a cryptic code you could not solve. Perhaps I can unlock it's secrets, and be able to translate the text. I did not attend Oxford for nothing."

"You surely did not, my friend.", noted Eleanor, "It is so good to see that after all these years, you are still as bright as ever, although age has started to catch up to you, looking at the greyness of your hair."

"Bah, grey color only adds to a man's beauty, I say. I mean, ahem, it is a sign of maturing, and–"

"And here I thought you had really changed, but apparently not. Better that way, actually.", she marked.

Scratching his full beard, William sighs to himself, reaches for the secret pocket of his black; velvety overcoat, and pulls out a meerschaum unlike any other. One he has inherited from his late father. It's mouthpiece and handle are of ivory black, then the firebox part itself is the most impressing detail. It depicts a stranded treasure ship of white and black clay, with small waves underneath the ship itself, and people walking on shores the unknown. To this day, he has chosen not to reveal, who is responsible for creating such a masterpiece, even though used for something as harmful as smoking tobacco. It is an item of art and high value, a true collector's piece.

Eleanor looked closely at the pipe, asking: "When are you going to tell me the true story of this.. rather magnificent–looking seawax pipe?"

"So now I have your attention? And there that question goes again. All in time, my friend. It is called a meerschaum, by the way. I was thinking about lighting it up, to get into the mood to do some.. detective work. Help yourself to tea or coffee, and biscuits of course, if you are in need of a snack. I do not smoke indoors, so I am heading out to the backyard. I will not be gone for long, though. From ten to fifteen minutes at most. I took one of the notes with me, and shall be examining it while smoking."

"Sure deal, William. And thank you. In that case, I will boil water for the tea and help myself to a few biscuits. And oh, can I have a few slices of cheese as well?"

"Ha, of course. As I said, make yourself home. There should be a plate of cut Emmental cheese slices in the fridge. Ah, good ol' chair, we meet aga–", and there closed the door. Then Eleanor heard the sound of a match being lit, and soon the backyard was momentarily engulfed in a haze of rings, with William standing in the center, pondering on the contents of the note he took, looking so satisfied to his life, and especially — to smoking of that antique meerschaum. What a word, she thought to herself. She never understood the fashion or need behind smoking tobacco. All those harmful toxins and nicotine, it's just not worth it. She would rather stay healthy all the way, and live it 'relatively safe'. The only sin she could be accused of these days, was red wine. She liked of vintage ciders as well, but nothing could beat the sweet taste of red wine on one's tongue, sparkling; inquiring, until the graceful sip of grape and wildberries would go down the throat along with the tannins gained. 

 

Too much of red wine can give you a headache so severe afterwards in the next morning, that you will not be able to rise up on the first try. Eleanor knew that all too well. She had been there a couple times herself, experiencing that feeling of everything being upside down. She hated the hangover, and was always careful enough not to get too drunk. One bottle upon a Friday evening once a week spent doing something fabulous, or in someone's gracious company, was enough to her. And occasionally an additional one–glass during Wednesdays and Sundays for reading and studying purposes. 

She kept skimming through the notes in a quick, yet thorough fashion, while the iron pot kept heating and heating. Then she eventually heard it give off the whistling sound, and noticed the fumes released, from which she knew the water was already boiling, and definitely hot enough. This time around, she went with a basic choice, something William had always favored. Earl Grey tea. 

Before seating herself in front of the dining table, she thought of the place's name, the Veridante manor, and at the same time, a candle burning on William's kitchen table suddenly started to flare in a rapid; pattern–like manner, as if trying to communicate as an element to a human being. She kept staring at the flame, so intently, so focusedly. Then it hit her, like a bolt of lightning shot down from the clear sky. In the fire's open eye, concealed in smoke rising up towards the roof of a three–floor manor in spires, she saw.. people fleeing, and the train station sign of a town called Grimsby, which is situated approximately one hundred and ninety miles away from London. That is where the manor would also be found, standing upon a hill of yellow clovers and tiger lilies next to a graveyard of nobles, which has not been tended to for decades. The vision was passing; short–lived, and when the candle's flame flared once more, she returned.. back to the reality.

"Wha–, Grimsby. I.. know that place.. I.. have been there.. in the past. How? I do not reca–", her thought was interrupted, when William came back in, opening and closing the door behind him, only to find Eleanor sitting there, staring blankly at the candle's flame against a wall, with a most puzzling look on her face. Smiling in a curious manner, he asked from her: "What is going on here? Surely fire cannot be that intriguing a thing. Eleanor, are you feeling alright? You are so pale, did you just see a ghost or something?"

She seemed so zoned; distant, like in the grip of a paralyzing fear, which was unwilling to let go. Only when William reached out to touch her left shoulder, by patting it in a gentle manner, asking a third time: "Eleanor? Eleanor? Are you... alright?", she suddenly awoke, as if from a controlled trance, looking at William with a confused look on her face. 

"What.. happened? I.. feel like I could not access my body for a while there. I only saw you, trying to wake me up, while I kept staring through a sort of flickering veil. I.. felt trapped.. in a feverish mare. I know, it sounds crazy right? But the fire.. it just.. urgh, this is too weird. I need some fresh air. Excuse me."

"Oh my, well, if you do need to go outdoors, by all means, I do not mind. Just do not be too long, or we will never get to the bottom of this with both of us running in and out of the house."

"I know, William. My apologies. I–I just really need to clear my thoughts, that is all. Do not worry, I am fine."

 

Then she opened the door, and slipped outside to ease her breathing and calm down. She did not wholly believe in anything paranormal, supernatural or whatsoever, yet that moment.. with the candle's fire.. almost as if.. she was sightseeing.. into the past.. for she saw.. Edward.. the one who had written and sent the letter. Screaming, bleeding, standing in middle of the cellar of the Veridante manor, with everything collapsing and blackening around him, repeating the following words in a frantic manner, a blank expression on his ghostly face: "The lines of fire will reveal the way of those unblemished. In silver the wicked aristocrats must pay. A heavy price echoing from the days of old. A bold sacrifice is required — the youngest daughter or son of each family's head member joined — a yearly event of reverence set in stone."

How would she even begin to break out something like this to William, who did not believe in any sort of portents or signs. She knew not, but there was definitely something lingering in the past, that her memory tried to recall, but could not do it. Why? As if.. sections of her brain had been altered or left unconscious; unwilling to pick up the details desired. She sat down, her heartbeat hastened, trying to calm down as best as she could. Eleanor was not even close to her forties (three months away from turning thirty–seven), yet she had some blood pressure issues. She never knew if all the red wine did good to it or not, but she sure hoped it would, because she was not going to let go off that luxury.

"What was that vision about, I could not grasp it. My head is still spinning, oh dear. I have not had these since.. forever I think," why, she kept asking from herself — time and time again — but she could still not understand the meaning behind all of this. Annoyed, she finished her tea, stood up, then breathed in and out a few times. Before heading back inside, she heard crackling sounds of lightning in the distance. A storm was approaching.

"Well, did fresh air do you good, have you calmed down already?", asked William, as he kept reading through the notes in a quick fashion.

Eleanor heavily breathed in and out for one last time, just in case, then answered: "Yes, my world of thoughts appears clear at this time of the day. My apologies for causing a scene, if that can even be called one."

"Well, I suppose. It really depends on who you are asking from? To me, that did not seem too much out of the ordinary. Now, I have been going through one of the notes while you were outside, and it sure seems like a handful. I was able to deduct one crucial thing, though."

"And what is that? Oh wait, do not tell me, it mentions a town called Grims..."

"Yes, that is it! Grimsby.", shouted William, "How did you know that?"

"Well, um, I did go through all of these notes last night, so my memory would be really bad if I could not remember something like that, which occurred so recently."

"Ah, of course. Very thorough. And true enough, my friend. Edward's name oddly keeps re–appearing, then most of the other names are only addressed by their initials. For example, one of these notes is marked as signed by: C. F. T — not quite informative, if you ask me, cryptic at best, and definitely intended. To me, it appears he was being blackmailed, or something of the sort."

"Hmm, it is almost two hundred miles away from here, so we best take the train there. Perhaps I anticipated this, for before I left the Goldwine manor, I said to Marcus and the household maids I would not be back for weeks. The trip is going to take a bit over four hours by train, that is our best choice to make, unless you are willing to spend a small fortune on gasoline. Our red and black Minerva AL is quite often used by Marcus, who had it shipped all the way from Belgium. I do not even dare to mention about the gasoline costs. So, I take it you do not have a car?"

"Oh, a Minerva AL, that is a rather exquisite choice. And no, I do not own a car. Not with this income, writing pays alright in itself, but I have not had a solid detective case for some time. Months, to be precise, although the Scotland Yard, since a few years ago, has allowed me to visit their headquarters as a crime consultant. Whenever they have had a mystery on their hands they could not understand themselves, they have called for me. Those cases pay really well, but as I said, the intervals can be long in between the chances to work. From two to three months on a regular basis."

Looking surprised, Eleanor poured herself another cup of tea (she drinks a lot, and not just the red wine), and continued: "Interesting to hear you have influence over the Scotland Yard, who would have thought. As I mentioned before, train is a most valid choice. We should finish reading these, then be on our way to buy the tickets, and meanwhile, I must make a wall telephone call to inform the authorities of Grimsby about our arrival. My family's fame reaches far, and thus I have hidden connections all across England's face. I have everything I need in my black suitcase, so I will give you enough time to pack all the clothes and personal items you need, should you accept to go with me on this adventure. Rest assured, it is going to be a long one."

William said nothing first, then he casually walked to the living room, put the meerschaum in it's black; oaken box, poured himself a glass of mineral water, replying, "Who am I to turn down such a request coming from a very old friend. You have my wits, skills and company at your disposal. I shall be gathering my things, it's only going to take a moment or two, so feel free to wait outside if you wish."

"Yes, the weather seems nice, although within a few hours from now, there might be heavy rain, if there is any truth to the massive formation of stormclouds heading Ravenwood's way. I will be waiting outside, do not take too long."

"Alright, Eleanor, hey, you should make that call now. There is a wall telephone just around the corner of this office."

"Good point, William. See you soon."

 

Eleanor picked her suitcase up, opened the front door and headed outside. A few drops of rain on an otherwise sunny day greeted her kindly, and there was no need for a umbrella. She walked thirty meters along the street, then turned left to look behind the corner, and there it was. The wall telephone. Now she just needed to find the right number from the national telephone directory.

It took her a couple of minutes to search the sections 'G', then for Grimsby, authorities and police officers, but in the end, she finally came across a number, which she thought to be most valid. Then she inserted the required pounds in, after which the dialing sequence activated, allowing her to make the call.

A few moments went by listening to the annoying sound (according to her), which ringing of the telephone causes. It was one of the reasons why calling via a telephone never sat good with Eleanor, who was old–fashioned beyond limits. Though in 'some cases', she let her principles be, and thus has allowed Marcus to invest on the latest technology available regarding the House of Goldwine, the manor of enterprise.

Then after a while, someone finally picked up on the other end. She listened to a middle–aged man open up his voice in a very low; wakingful manner, as if he would have been taking a nap, inquiring: "H–hello. This is Officer Malcolm Ferguson, Grimsby Police Station. Who do I own a pleasure of speaking to?"

Changing to her most polite; gentle tone, Eleanor replied: "Greetings. This is Lady Eleanor Goldwine, owner of the House of Goldwine in Ravenwood, and the national wineries and breweries of England. And I have an important question to ask of you."

"Well, I will be damned. She whose name weighs in gold anywhere you go in the range of England, calling our humble office. I am all ears, ma'am. How may I help such a renowned businesswoman at this time of a day?"

"Hello there, Malcolm. I was thinking perhaps you could check out a file for me. Concerning a man named Edward Augusson Veridante, owner of the Veridante manor. Is this possible? And if so, do neither of the forementioned names mean anything to you?"

There was a deep silence of hesitation, which indicated Malcolm knew something, before he broke the said silence, replying in a mystical manner, "Yes. This.. town.. it.. remembers. The night. The fire. The bodies. All of it."

"Um, alright. So, I take it you know what I am about to ask of you next?"

"Yes. The case exists. Open. Closed. None knows, but I.. will take you there, to the Veridante manor's ruins. Safe travels. Any traveling companions tagging along?"

"A private eye and writer called William Stanley. None else. I can vouch for him, and that he is a good and trustworthy man. Thank you for being so helpful."

"Excellent. I know of his dealings with the Scotland Yard. He is well known back home, in Scotland. And..."

Switching to what could only be called hissing whispering, when Malcolm suddenly spoke out the following words, intended or not, those words crept up Eleanor's spine in waves of shivers.

"One of the Three Graves is empty. Eyes on the crescent moon. The forest is a home to sorrows of the ages. The path of no return. Take these words to heart. They.. are.. listening. See you in Grimsby. The police station. Tomorrow noon. Do.. not.. be.. late."

"O–okay. Well, thank you Malcolm, and see yo–", then the call suddenly ended, and Eleanor was left questioning the sanity of a man, who she just spoke with. What on Earth were those passing bits of rambling dialogue mixed with truth, as if spoken with a hidden agenda in mind? The Three Graves. There it was again. Those particular; familiar words. The feeling of madness started to settle in. What horrors would await her and William in the town of Grimsby? She knew not. Her pulse kept rising. Rising. Rising. Like that smoke in the fire's vision. All the way up to the roof. Rising. Rising. She felt her heartbeat grow slow. So very slow. She reached out for her coat's secret pocket. A prescription drug, yet what would have normally been a white; circular pill, was now a cerulean; star–shaped one. Unknowingly, not looking at it, she took it. A gentle sip of water, and then there was silence, utter calmness, and then, unexpected loss of time, when suddenly, a collapse occurred, her eyes blurred from crystal clear rain, she fell, hit her head to the granite stone, while the pale sky welcomed her with more and more rain: "Lie there for a while, o' dreaming child of wine.", said the sun. — "Die in our caring arms of molten gold!", cried the stars. — "Dive in the lunar sea of prismatic diamonds.", bid the moon. And from lying and singing to herself there – on the street – she was found by none other than William. Shaking her nearly lifeless husk, she thought him to be a guardian angel descended from the gleaming heavens above, ready to take her to the final home of solitude. She reached out her right hand, blinked her eyes three times, and then.. she awoke. Only to realize, that the guardian angel.. was William.

"My gods, whatever drugs have you been taking? Your words are not making any kind of sense. Do I need to have you checked at a local hospital?"

"N–no. I am.. fine.. I.. just took.. a pill.. and now.. I am.. absolutely... fin–e...", then her eyes closed, with William shouting her name in a repeated manner.

"Eleanor! Eleanor! No, you do not look fine to me at all, we must delay our departure, luckily we did not buy any tickets yet. You must be taken to the hospital. Stay with me, Eleanor!", he kept shouting, and not long after, a small crowd had gathered to watch the struggling Eleanor, who lie there on the ground. William quickly called for an ambulance to be sent from the central hospital of Ravenwood along with a team of experienced doctors and medical personnel.

 

Five hours and thirty–four minutes later, at the Ravenwood Central Hospital, Bed Section A

 

The whiteness. The noises. The shouts. It all felt so distant in her eyes, or in her mind, would be a better thing to say, for she was.. not feeling herself. That pill she took, whatever it was, caused her to hallucinate things so eldritch she knew not how to address those images, not to mention, how to begin to talk about them with anyone, even Marcus or William. Eleanor felt so dizzy, although she had slept well the other night, the effects of the drug caused her body to feel that way, by directly influencing the part of her brain, which causes a human being to feel sleepy; spent. She tried to speak, she tried, but to no avail. Looking at William with a half–blank gaze, she thought to herself: "Where.. and when.. I.. received.. this particular.. prescription? Who signed the receipt, and assigned it to be given to me? So hard.. to recall.", then she let her gaze off William to the white–grey roof of the hospital, allowing head to hit the pillow, falling asleep again.

Her dreams took her to such curious places and landscapes sometimes. But this was not just any kind of dreaming scenario. This was a boosted state of visioning, caused by the effects of a hard drug, of which origins and type the doctors so feverishly tried to find out, while Eleanor kept hallucinating, strapped to the bed with a belt, so that she would not freak out, flee or anything of the sort.

She, in a way, saw the hospital room she was in, and perhaps, the doctors as well, but the year and time.. seemed different somehow. She looked at a paper calendar hanging from the wall, and the year showed 1875. No way. Bloody hell. It could not possibly be. She quickly arose from the bed, and the doctors or the other personnel did not seem to be able to see her, so she dressed up, choosing the finest looking pair of a patient's clothes, and ran outside. It was a rainy, early Autumnal day. She started asking the nameless; shapeless forms for directions and advice, which talked back to her, easing her troubled mind and wildly beating heart. Finally, after asking for hours, or so she felt. Time ceases to exist, when one crosses a certain border in visioning. She knew what she wanted to know. The way to the Veridante manor. She had to find out the truth, and she did not know when the effects of the mysterious drug would begin to wear down. In some really weird sense, this was the perfect opportunity. She could not possibly let this chance slip away. The vision kept getting stronger and stronger, the more steps she took, the closer she was, the more the trees, animals hiding in their bushes and the people walking about started to change for worse; scarier. Shadows forming murderous faces of a mad clown holding a butcher's knife, or a tophatted man, dressed in full black; armed with a bloodstained sickle. Anything of the sort. She felt the wind itself become lifeless, cold; unwilling to allow her to breathe in or continue her way, it blew and blew, gust after gust. Obstacle after obstacle, she finally made it to the manor. It was still intact; unlit, and she saw people and shadowy figures inside, sitting by a dining table, illuminated by a hearth's fire. One of them was wearing a noble's ceremonial type of clothes, a jewelled crown along with a strange–looking star–shaped serpent necklace, and was sitting at the end of a large; carved wooden table. That must be Edward, she thought, after pondering and observing the gathering for a while.

They were drinking wine from golden goblets. What type, she knew not, and they all had something to eat on their plates. She felt thirsty and hungry at the same time, yet steadfast continued staring at what would happen next. Perhaps a part of her consciousness knew this was not real. When the group had finally finished eating, they rose from their chairs, and one by one, left the table, until only three remained. Who she thought to be Edward, and two hooded, who both appeared to be women. Then the people left through the frontdoor, and singly disappeared to what seemed to be blackened red portals with silvery white halos. Nothing seemed to make much sense.

Then, even if it was a short while, she turned her glance back inside the manor, only to notice that the other figure had moved to Edward's vicinity, and then.. she unsheathed a ceremonial dagger, and stabbed Edward near the chest area, then he staggered back, and another hit found it's wound from his left shoulder. Bleeding, he pushed the shadowy women out of his way, running somewhere holding a key firmly within his right hand's palm. At this point, Eleanor decided to make a run for it towards the manor, in hopes of managing to save him before it would be too late. She opened the frontdoor, only to notice the two assailants standing in the hallway. They somehow noticed her, even though this was her private dream scenario. She dodged the daggers hitting empty air, and noticed a door leading to the cellar slightly open. Quickly, she slided on the recently waxed wooden floor past the attackers, and opened the cellar door as fast as she then closed it, barring it with a wooden lock. She heard them banging their fists against the door, hitting it with their edged weapons over and over. Then she heard them give up for a time being, and began walking down the spiraling stairs leading towards what she thought to be a hidden inner chamber. The steps felt very slippery; wet, slimy, it appeared even Edward did not come here often, judging from overall dampness of the cellar.

At the bottom of the stairs, she saw three doors, all left wide open, with light shining in the end of each tunnel. She stopped to think about which to choose. Being right–handed, she felt safe by choosing the right path. After walking for a long while, she started to hear sounds of someone mourning, writing and cursing altogether. Then she saw one colossal; black door with white serpentine symbols carved on it. She carefully reached for the ancient–like knob, opening it slightly, entering in. There he was, Edward, sitting midst the darkness illuminated by candlelight, writing the letter assigned to her father. Quietly, she moved closer to him. He did not notice anything. She kept wondering how those two crazy women somehow had managed to see her. She tried to lean over his shoulder to look at the text, when she accidentally coughed once, extinguishing a tall candle's flame placed in a candleholder on Edward's antique writing desk.

Turning around in his red baroque chair, he asked a question to the ghosts present, of which one was Eleanor.

"Who treads there? No gust of wind could blow off the candle's flame down here, not without the window open. Where are you hiding? Show yourself!"

She remained absolutely still. He kept staring into the darkness of the room, then briefly at her, yet spoke not another word. Was this no longer a dream or something else entirely? Was this man, from over thirty years ago, presumed to be dead, able to somehow see Eleanor, despite her being a delusional fragment of the future visiting a repressed memory of the past? Grunting to himself, Edward turned to face the letter and the notes, and continued writing. When he was finished, he whistled to a pigeon, which Eleanor recognized to be the one called Fairly. Calling the bird by it's given name, Edward placed the notes on the letter, then folded it, attached a string around it, making a knot, he made sure everything would stay in one place. Then as one last thing, he sealed the letter with a stamped sigil of Veridante family, before tying it to the pigeon's right talon. Showing it to fly through the only window of the cellar, he then opened it for the bird, letting it out to carry the letter, which would be found thirty years later, saying: "You are my only hope of getting this letter to my dear friend, Nicholas Goldwine. He will know what to do with he information gained. I will now pray to whatever gods are out there, keep him safe. I sincerely wish.. that this letter finds him.. before They do. Even now.. those two lunatics.. are trying to break in to my inner chamber. And once they have pried their way in, I shall be dead. There is no other outcome to be had. Not in this story."

Then he arose from the chair, stood up and turned around to face Eleanor, or the spot where she was standing in her twisted; drug–altered reality, and smiled, as if he could finally see her, he said: "There you go. Your father will receive the letter. Here I go. Let them come. My soul is ready, and my heart, remains pure. No body, no murder, only the ashes of a broken man, who will remember the hundreds of repeated stabs of a cold–bladed dagger received? No. My fate is sealed, yet you.. deceive none, little El. Farewell."

These words confused her mind greatly, then she heard footsteps coming from behind her, and the door opening, with the two women running in with daggers in their hands, laughing in a deranged manner, going straight for Edward. She could only watch, while they kept stabbing him more than hundreds times, until his body was just an unrecognizable mass of spilt blood and ripped gore. Then they poured alcohol on his body, and the clothes he was wearing, rended them off him, placed those on the wooden table, and by lightning up a single match, one of the killers lit the robe aflame, letting fire to claim the cellar as it's own, and then slowly, rest of the manor. They made sure there was enough flammable liquid, in this case, alcohol for the fire to light up nicely. All of the furniture and wooden parts of the house itself would serve as an accelerator to the fire's dominion. Then they unexpectedly turned and looked Eleanor straight to her orange–red eyes, and began to tardily approach her with their weapons drawn, ready to smite her down in an instant.

Fortunately, at that precise moment, she felt her vision fade, as the inner chamber kept burning and wasting away, one corner and precious item after another. The whiteness settled in, yet this time, the sights around her became brighter and clearer than ever. Then she let out a scream of terror, and awoke in the hospital, strapped to the bed, trying to free herself, granting to those present an echo from her terrifying nightmare.

"Edwaaaard, noooo!", then she nearly passed out again, but before doing so, she could hear one of the paramedics working with the doctor say: "Hush, do not be afraid, you are fine. Within closed doors, there is no need for fear. Please, calm yourself. You have been drugged, self–caused or not, it will take at least several more hours for the hallucinating effects to subside. Judging by your past medical records, Lady Eleanor, I am not sure should I be surprised about this or not. Opium addiction? Really, that is quite something. It states here, that you voluntarily sought out for help, and was admitted to a full scale detoxification lasting two and a half years. Have you given up on the habit since then? Nod once, if you have.", she nodded bravely, her tired eyes indicating she was telling the truth. Then the paramedic continued: "Good. We have not been able to idenfity the drug yet, nor what it exactly does to a human being, yet from what we have seen and observed, it seems to enhance the deepness of one's R.E.M sleep beyond belief. Your friend, William, just left to get some coffee. He has been by your side most of the time, watching you recovering. If everything goes as planned, the two of you will be able to leave the hospital by evening. Do not worry, there is even a train departing for Grimsby at twenty–five minutes past nine. The clock is currently fifteen minutes past four PM. William went to confirm this at the station a few hours ago. So, take as many deep breaths as you possibly can, close your eyes and go.. back.. to sleep. We will awake you when it's time, and once you have fully regained control over your way of speech, you will have to answer to a few of our questions."

That bit of information was enough to her. Nodding as a sign of approval and relief, she closed her eyes, like the paramedic suggested, and extended her stay in the unorthodox dreamworld of bygone memories that felt so very real.


	3. The Door to Past is Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor is still exloring the past through her eldritch dream scenarions, that seem to lead her to most odd situations by exploiting her memories. She eventually wakes up, and together with William, they are finally able to leave the town of Ravenwood via train to Grimsby, where they would go to inspect the burnt Veridante manor, and to meet Officer Ferguson.

Scene I: A Snow Angel's Sad Youth  
  
  
A young girl was crying, holding a brand new brown teddy bear in her right hand. Standing in front of a doorway leading to the dining room, with her parents arguing loudly within, she, reluctant to join, just stood there, waiting. For what, she knew not. Something to happen, or someone to come make things right. All of it a illusion. She could not bear to watch her parents fight again, so she turned around, unequipped for the weather, turned a key in the front door, left the house and went outside to make snow angels.  
  
It was Winter at it's prime, with snowflakes gently falling down from the comfort of a most white sky, she lay there on her back, moving her hands up and down according to a pattern, letting for the flakes of snow touch her face.  
  
Then after a long while, she suddenly heard the door open, and her mother shouting: "Dear child, why are you wearing little to no outdoor clothing, dirtying your precious outfit!? Come inside at this instant! I will not tolerate you acting like this, Eleanor."  
  
"Yes, mother. I.. will.. go.. back.. inside." she replied, sighing ever so deeply.  
  
She was not happy with her life. Not at all. She was only seven years old. Alone and afraid her parents might split up at any given second. Saddened, she would often run up the stairs to her room after school, and stay there for the whole day without coming down, not even to eat, drink at best. Of course, she would eventually eat something, though usually in secret and in nighttime. Such was Eleanor as a child.  
  
That is when the scenery started to shift through time in a slow motion, whisking across her mind like a tide of hidden memories and days long since forgotten. She felt herself positioned in the center of it all, staring hysterically into the void, fearing all of her past mistakes, seeing all of her past deeds, personal relationships, travels, negotiations and schools attended. She could see it all flash before her eyes, and her head spinning and hurting as a reward. "Is this what it means.. to visit.. the end's glowing gates?" she asked from her sub–consciousness. "No, not by a chance. Turn over the hourglass of luminosity. This is merely the beginning." it replied, unwilling to continue the conversation held within one's mind palace.  
  
"How can it be? When must I—"  
  
A wave of distortion sounds interrupted her thought. A silence ensued.  
  
There was no response. Then the vision unexpectedly changed. White to blind with.  
  
Seven years forward in time.  
  
  
Scene II: A Tiger's Eye Opens the Path  
  
  
Eleanor was running down the main hall's stairs. One of the manor's maids was opening the long–reaching curtains, while another kept sweeping the floor with a cleaning brush, and a third moved quietly along with a dishrag at her disposal, wiping the floor and other unclean; dusty surfaces in a pattern–like manner.  
  
They did never like her running about, and often commented strongly against it, and told her to stay out of the way. She would, of course, pay no attention to words and advices of the maids, and do whatever she wanted. Her parents seemed to be doing just the exact same, so she too allowed herself the luxury, and got used to it too much in her youth.  
  
From hallway to hallway, door to door, she ran and ran, all of the personnel working in the manor trying to catch her from causing any trouble. The Goldwine manor was a vast building, a remarkable and astonishing achievement of architecture and building. Designed and commissioned by the revered Sir Anders Thrommel, not even the Goldwines themselves knew all it's secrets, but the requirement was there to be several hidden passages, bookshelves becoming doors, statues with insertable and removable objects guarding concealed exists and even more passages and finally, somewhere down below, beneath the manor should stand a secret chamber's golden door unlocked only by a wall mechanism; a puzzle lock of sorts.  
  
She had heard about the mentioned door in passing from her father, who knows the right way there. The Goldwine manor is a very colossal building, with one hundred rooms in total, and over 275 m2 of front yard, including a personal garden, it is a considerably glorious sight to behold from near and far. Yet this manor is nothing compared to the likes of Wentworth Woodhouse, which is said to be the largest manor and building in all of England, and to have over three hundred and fifty rooms, and nearly an infinite space for living.  
  
And today, she wanted to unearth such a secret, whatever it may be. She was determined to check out every single one of those rooms, and find out the cryptic truth. Of course, to a fourteen–year old, this was a routine day of exploring. The first ten rooms went by quickly. Each one is marked with a number in upper part of the door, carved in the wood, then painted over with golden paint.  
  
Twenty rooms checked, no unusual findings. Thirty rooms checked, storages, kitchen, broom cupboard, living room, dining room, second floor, study, library, architect's chamber, all checked, a few secrets found here and there, including nearly torn notes beneath writing desks. At forty–five rooms searched, including a parlour, where the most expensive and rarest of paintings owned by Nicholas and Lindell lie, placed carefully on the walls of the room. There were fancy carpets, a full Baroque suit accompanied by a coffee table and smaller ones for possible indoor smoking and where to place a glass. And lastly, a strikingly well–sculptured tiger statue of silver missing it's left eye of emerald, placed upon the hearth. She swore she had seen the missing gem somewhere in the house, yet failed to recall where. Oh well, maybe she would eventually stumble upon it during her adventure, she thought.  
  
  
One hour and thirty minutes later  
  
  
She was starting to feel a bit tired, yet continued steadfast to explore the rooms. So far, she had checked sixty–five out of one hundred. Then she came to an alcove with a very oddly situated bookshelf full of red–hued books, except for one, which was slightly purple–ish, blue even. She neared towards the shelf to examine it closer. She had heard of this one from her father as well, upon removal of the book, the shelf is supposed to move forward first, then slowly begin to slide to the right, revealing a passage leading to a laboratory housing a large amount of chemistry supplies and equipment, used in the creation of elixirs and various other; delicate mixtures of basic elements.  
  
Her curiosity peaked, she reached out for the book's cover, grabbed it and pulled it half–way off the shelf, when a click was heard. Then, unexpectedly, the bookshelf indeed started to move forward, then slided out of the way, locked into place, letting Eleanor to step inside through a doorway leading to Nicholas' secret laboratory.  
  
None had set foot in this place for a long time. The cobweb, the dust and the air; thick and dead, it all made it difficult to breathe for her. She moved quietly, carefully, trying to find a candle. Then she found a pack of matches, when she suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind her. Lighting a match to reveal who it was, to her surprise, a face worn by actions and unslept nights flickered against the faint source of light. That of Nicholas, her father.  
  
  
He showed a facial expression of one not to be questioned, yet in a gentle manner, he then smiled and asked from her: "Eleanor. Whatever are you doing in my personal laboratory, I wonder? Well, this certainly proves you have some puzzle–solving skills to recognize and separate the right book from the false ones. I have a quick question for you. Did you find the puzzle difficult, or were you able to solve it within minutes from realizing there was a potential puzzle mechanism in place?  
  
"Yes, it was not that difficult to tell which one of the books was the trigger. The slight difference in color hue gave the answer away, but it was a well–thought idea.", replied Eleanor, looking up with her eyes momentarily closed, a proud look on her face.  
  
Nicholas burst to a laugh "Well, you certainly are clever for a fourteen–year old. Now, that you have seen my laboratory, which is a humble chemist's abode, would you like to continue your exploring? Oh yes, several of the household maids told me you have been running around from door to door, room to room. That is an interesting quest. I recall I have searched this manor thoroughly myself two to three times. One hundred rooms is a lot of space to upkeep, and there is rarely enough time to go exploring out of the blue."  
  
"I have still thirty–five rooms left to check. By the way, father, you should have that laboratory cleaned sometime. See you at the evening meal!", shouted Eleanor, and continued to run down the long; twisting hallway.  
  
Going inside the room, Nicholas lit a candle on the working table, then turned towards a half empty bookshelf, reached his hand all the way to the back end of it, and pulled a lever built inside the shelf, attached to a wall. Next to it, a secret cache revealed itself, concealed by a removable wooden blank, wired to the lever, set to let it's contents unfold upon inspecting. And therein, lie a black book engraved with a white serpent's emblem. Sighing to himself, he thought: "I hope she will never come to know. She must not find out. I have to re–design this puzzle together with Anders. He will know what to do. If she ever finds the 100th room. No, she could not possibly be that sagacious. Luckily, the gemstone is safe; hidden away. I am sure she will start looking for it, once she discovers that the 100th room.. cannot be seen. I.. cannot.. allow our family's name.. to be stained by my shadowed past. Forgive me, my wife, my daughter. This is one secret, that I must carry.. to my grave. It is the truth. A tiger's eye opens the path."  
  
  
Dreaming.. back.. to.. reality.  
  
  
Those words echoed in Eleanor's mind, as she slowly started to regain her consciousness at the general hospital of Ravenwood. Her vision was still a blur, yet oddly, she remembered everything she had just experienced in her feverish nightmare vision, in depth and detail. She found this knowledge most disturbing, and thus decided to keep it to herself for now, but would be sure to tell about it to William, once they would be onboard the train to Grimsby. Most troubling. It was the same book Edward had, she recognized it from the white serpent emblem. This made Eleanor to question were the two involved in something really shady. All of the gained evidence so far points to that direction. She always suspected, though never asked about it or mentioned anywhere, that her father got involved in something dangerous in his youth. She would have to find the tiger's emerald eye, and unearth the truth. "First Grimsby, I expect us to stay there a couple of days, asking the locals, gathering information, and of course, go see the burnt manor. Then to visit the Goldwine winery in Hertfordshire for an inspection of faculties and staff. After that, maybe a visit to Shirley as well, if William agrees. I know he will. He enjoys traveling. Maybe a week will do, then we shall return to Ravenwood. Then it will be time to explore the Goldwine manor's one hundred rooms once again." she thought. The notion — acccording to which their trip would take weeks — she had said that mostly to make sure she would have a perfect excuse to stay away from home a bit longer than usually. She needed an adventure, although she did not suspect it to start with a misplaced pill and end in a hospital visit, only to continue like nothing ever happened? No. Nothing would ever be the same. She would be sure to question her personal physician upon their return. She could not get that detail out of her mind. What was the cerulean; star–shaped pill doing there in the first place? Why, it had to do something with Nicholas. How, was the most awe–inspiring part. Who would go to such lengths to replace one pill with a very psyche–altering one, and then hope the person to who the prescription drug was assigned to take it when the time would be right, or at random? What absolute foolishness. Unreasonable. Mad. Wrong. Dr. Farahan has a lot to answer for, but she was not sure of his weekly schedule. It would be best to inquire this from the physician in charge.  
  
And frankly, she was not sure would William be interested in accompanying her, if he knew what she now knew. Nevertheless, Eleanor was ready to place her trust in him. Rising her head slowly up from the comfort of a pillow, her jet–black hair a bit messy, she started blinking her eyes rapidly, adjusting to the light of the room again. Then she moved the blanket off her body, put it aside and straightened her back, asking: "How long was I out? An hour, hours, or more? I, um, feel like I just spent one lifetime looking back on my past self, and the dreams I once had. So.. very strange. Uhh, my poor head. Everything is still spinning around and around. May I have a glass of water and an Aspirin to go along, please?"  
  
"Annie, this lady over here needs a glass of water and an Aspirin. Would you be so kind as to fetch her these? I will tend to her blood pressure, and re–do the tests concerning traces of the drug in her system." bid the doctor, who turned to face Eleanor, and moved too close to check her eyesight for any unusual redness and expanding of pupils.  
  
"Would you mind stop doing that?" asked Eleanor, looking grumpy and tired.  
  
"Oh, my apologies. Merely a routine check. You seem to be back to normal. Having treated you throughout this watch and recovery, I feel inclined to tell you my name. It is important to us doctors to know our patients, and likewise. I am Thomas Amerton, the senior physician. Pleased to meet you."  
  
"Likewise. I am Eleanor Goldwine, an entrepreneur, winery and brewery owner, and a scholar with a problematic past. Surely you have checked through my medical records by now? And yes, the prescription, which normally helps my migraine seizures diminish, is to support my condition. I have suffered from Bickerstaff syndrome ever since my early youth, when I was diagnosed with it. But it did not burst, or become active until my early twenties. Up until then, intervals in between the migraines were very long, years at best. While nowadays, I have a little headache present at all times, and the migraines have become more frequent and painful."  
  
Coughing to clear his throat, Thomas looked at the records, then at Eleanor, "Yes, it is a rare syndrome involving black outs and most severe headache, and it gets worse as a patient ages. I have always been wondering, since this is one of the few times I have ever encountered someone with such an tormenting illness. How.. do you cope with it? The bouts of pain."  
  
"Well, you learn to live with them, but the pain never truly lets you go. There are some days, when I feel so tired and powerless just from the mere thought of rising up to face another morning of being hardly able to stand on my two feet at first. The painkillers take it away, but only for a while, until the mind remembers it all again. I am glad for my husband, Marcus. His loving support has been irreplaceable ever since we met seventeen years ago. Walking has also helped me a lot along with meditating, whenever I have had a chance to practise it in my personal quarters at home, or in the rose garden outside. Endurance, patience and sheer power of will. That is what withstanding this curse of a headache requires. And vast amounts of red wine and water." said Eleanor, while she continued to blink her eyes in order to see something. It was all still so bright for her at that moment, but her eyes were slowly getting used to the effects of light and lighting.  
  
"I am sorry to hear that. It must be a burden to bear, but you seem to be handling it well, as far as I can tell. Thank you for telling me."  
  
"It is something I like to keep to myself. Now you know, and must keep the knowledge to yourself."  
  
Then the nurse, Annie, came in to the room, carrying a glass of water and the long–awaited pill of Aspirin on a small silver plate, smiling as she handed them over to Eleanor. — "Here you go, milady. I hope you are starting to feel better already."  
  
"Thank you, dear. Oh, where is my friend William, who escorted me here?"  
  
"Oh, do you mean that eccentric older man, who at times talks to himself in his sleep? He got tired of sitting, so he decided to take a nap on our lounge's couch. I will go tell him, that you are finally awake."  
  
"Good, please do so. Yes, William is.. a good and loyal friend, a learned man, yet ever so.. peculiar a person."  
  
"Seems that way, yes." then Nurse Annie was off.  
  
A minute or two passed by, when William finally came in to sight of Eleanor's eyes, she jokingly asked from him — "Is the clock so much we have already missed the train? If so, then great, for I could use a few extra hours of sleep, my friend."  
  
"Did you not just sleep for like.. nine to ten hours? If I am not entirely wrong, that is a sufficient amount of continuous sleep."  
  
"Look, William, there is a difference in between continuous sleep and a feverish nightmare stage caused by a hard drug. In any case, I assume we are still on time?"  
  
Waving the two train tickets in air back and forth, he continued — "Ahem, yes, we still have time to get out of this god–forsaken hospital, go to the train station and be on our way to Grimsby. There, we should go to the local inn and book rooms for ourselves. I know you well enough to say you want your own room, and frankly, so do I. Now, I will give you time to change and sign out. When you are ready, come and find me outside.  
  
"That is a relief to hear. And sure, go ahead. Enjoy the, *cough*, fresh air."  
  
"Oh, I will. And no rush, it is twenty minutes to nine in the evening. We have plenty of time, and the station is practically just around the corner, at most one point five kilometers away from here."  
  
Rising up from the bed, she replied — "I will not take long. Luckily it's dark, so my looks will not matter. If I had a hand mirror with me now, I would probably be scared of my own reflection if I saw it, or how my hair looks. I will have to comb it, while dressing up."  
  
"Yes, of course. Hmm, well, it is not so bad if you ask me."  
  
"And that is precisely why I am not asking you, merely stating out. Catch you soon."  
  
"Aye. I will be waiting outside." said William, almost ready to light up a match despite still being indoors. He resisted the urge, and walked out through the hospital's front door for a round of pipe tobacco.  
  
  
Eleanor rose up on her feet, still trembling from time to time, she felt steady enough to stand on her own. It would usually be a shame for a lady of her status to lower herself to ask for help, but she knew herself better. She was not that kind of lady. Always willing to accept help when it was offered, pain had taught her so much during the time she had been alive and kicking. No passing individuals in a good health, or those indifferent to pain could ever even begin to comprehend the struggles Eleanor faced from day to day in her normal life. Yet she cherished life; treasured it, yet did not wish for children. Just an ordinary life with Marcus would do, not to mention their cats and the seven maids. Plenty of company to begin with.  
  
She grabbed her belongings, suitcase, clothes, the pink rose she uses in her hair and the veil, and headed to the ladies room to dress herself up.  
  
With that out of the way, she bid Thomas, Annie and other members of the staff goodbye and checked out. "What a nightmare scenario.", she thought. Fortunately the train was due to leave in thirty minutes. They would have plenty of time to walk to the station without having to rush.  
  
She met with William outside, who had just finished inquiring about the town of Grimsby, many accounts stating that all was not well over there. Disturbances, murky; heavy atmosphere and clouds of grief and doubt were said to linger above Grimsby.  
  
They greeted each other briefly, William asking "Are you sure you are alright, Eleanor? You still look so very pale." — "I will be fine" replied Eleanor, "It was a draumatic experience, alright. No idea what that drug was. Not even the doctors seemed to know for certain. It must be something new, definitely illegal and dangerous. I have.. tried a bit of this and that in the past, but.. if this is being distributed across England as we speak, then we could be in for some serious trouble in the next weeks and months to come."  
  
Scratching his beard, William said "Agreed. There is something quite fishy going on. I have not been able to place all of the pieces together yet. Well, let us be on our way now, that is our train on the left, and it is about to leave soon. I will help you with the suitcase, just board in and I will follow. As they say, ladies first."  
  
"Thank you kindly."  
  
And so, they were finally on their way towards Grimsby. Approximate traveling time: four hours and twenty minutes.  
  
  
On the train, they drank cups of tea each, and ate two pieces of bread with cheese, salad, tomato and pickled cucumber. A evening meal, a light one at that. Eleanor read a newspaper, and occasionally went through the letter and notes, of which half were being examined by William. They were busy with their separate; connected activities, yet chatted from time to time about daily life matters, how it goes with each other's personal life and so on.  
  
The journey seemed effortlessly traveled, and sooner than they realized, the train's whistle reminded them of the fact, that their destination had been reached.  
  
They had arrived to the town of Grimsby's train station. Only a couple of lights were on, of which one flickered badly, as if it was about to pop and shut down at any moment. The wind blew mildly to the east, while they descended down the train's iron ladders lowered upon stopping at a staging post.  
  
None arose from the train at the station except for them. Then it occurred to her, that Malcolm had stated on the phone they would meet at noon, tomorrow, 17th of May. Why? Why tomorrow, she wondered. She suddenly felt very uneasy to be at the station's vigilance. The train soon whistled again as a sign of departing, and then it slowly disappeared to the night's fog, which engulfed a large part of the station. As it went, she had not noticed it before, but it looked like.. a ghost train from the outside.  
  
The more they continued to stay there, the more she started to fear for something unexpected; unknown. She stared at each shadow, as if it would be an enemy ready to lash out at her with a weapon in hand, axe, sword, halberd, bayonet or lance, anything. She could feel a presence; eyes watching from the distance, or from the shadows. She was certain. They were not alone, even though it seemed to be that way. She glanced at William with a most suspicious, yet serious look on her face, whispering: "William.. just.. start to walk, and do not talk loudly. I think that.. we are.. being followed. The only person to know we were coming, was Malcolm, and perhaps some of the Hospital staff, to which you talked while I was unconscious. But they possibly could not have—"  
  
"Who knows. Yes, I can sense it too. This fog is getting thicker by the minute, very strange. It started increasing it's area of dominance only upon our arrival. Must have something to do with the steam caused by the train mixing with the air wet from today's rainfalls?"  
  
"It might be. Anyhow, I am not an expert on these kind of matters, my friend. Hush now. Let us go through here, and continue forward until we can see something in this bloody fog. Go, go, best walk–run or we risk being caught if someone wants us gone. Luckily, this fog gives us a good chance at escaping. No more talking, until we have reached a safe spot."  
  
William nodded as a sign of agreement, and then they were off, trying to make as little noise as possible. In hurry, Eleanor dropped one of the notes, which went unnoticed by her. A note containing a name very crucial to their investigation; a name that would haunt her for the rest of her life's journey.  
  
Soon they reached a place, where it became easier to see. There were street lights; bright as bright can be — and a very old–looking inn right beside them, named Brellam's Haunted Inn & Bar. Very fitting for a town like Grimsby to have something like that just lying about. Smiling slightly at the situation's grimness, they quickly entered and thus, were out of danger for now. There was no denying it anymore. They were being followed, chased, and it was not just her imagination playing tricks on her. The threat was real. Fortunately for them, the inn seemed quite crowded, not full, yet lively; plenty o' chatter, clash of tankards and scent of good; home made food. Everything seemed to be in order. Without hesitating, she beckoned William in as well off the street, and paid them for a stay of one night in cash. Thirty seven and a half Pounds each, including a breakfast in the upcoming morning. The innkeeper seemed happy with the business blooming. He also mentioned something in passing about the residents of the inn reporting occurrences of unnatural events and phenomena in the rooms thirteen and twenty–eight. The rooms Eleanor and William would spend their nights in. "Great, hopefully at least the bed sheets are new and clean.." she thought, as she grabbed the room keys from the innkeeper's right hand.


End file.
